


Summer Breeze

by CruelisnotMason



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dance, Humor, Hurt, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelisnotMason/pseuds/CruelisnotMason
Summary: "Maybe I just can't see it," Reki adds."Right," Langa says with a sigh and leans back on his hands, rocking once back and forth on his heels. "I mean you're not gay after all."
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki, Langa's crush on Adam
Comments: 25
Kudos: 241





	Summer Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I could get out of writing something I don't know anything about (skateboarding) by writing something else I don't know anything about (dancing). I am boo-boo the fool. But who cares about the sports in sports anime anyways?

"I just don't see what you like about him," Reki hisses, in an effort to make his voice as quiet as possible. He and Langa might hide in the corner of the ball room with Reki supporting himself against one of the foldable tables full of snacks and beverages for the breaks, but just because they are further away from the rest of the class, doesn't mean they can't be heard by others.

It was Reki's idea in the first place to take a tango-class on Thursday evenings to broaden his repertoire of standard dances. Langa had happily tagged along, and despite witnessing Reki almost break an arm while hiking up his dance partner during a session of waltz in another class, he agreed to learn the basics for standard dancing from Reki until they could take a class together. Even though a beginner at standard dance, Langa easily excelled at the amateur tango class; gobbled up any knowledge, steps or rhythms there were to learn, and did so quicker than some of the professional standard dancers in the same course.

In the end it was Langa who nudged Reki into taking continuing tango, this time the advanced course, in their next semester.

There are some reasons Reki considers jumping off the tango-class-train, but it's not because of _tango_ in particular. And not because of Langa, either.

"He's good at this," Langa whispers back after a moment of hesitation. "His moves are so smooth and quick."

It's their fifth week of the new class, and they've gotten a new dance instructor. Reki doesn't wait a beat before he replies with a less excited attitude about Adam. "But wouldn't you rather have someone slow and steady?"

Langa doesn't get to reply; they are both notorious for being the chatty pair in class, and this week's lesson is no different.

"Ah, gentlemen," Adam, the frivolous-looking dance instructor with devil horns made out of eyebrow hair calls, "don't stop talking on _my account_."

A couple of people start laughing, and Reki sinks, embarrassed and red-cheeked, into himself. Standing next to him, Langa seems completely unaffected, simply nodding until Adam resumes talking about dips and flips and… _somersaults_ in tango. More and more Reki feels certain that he won't be able to even finish _this_ course until the end of the semester.

After a minute or so of Adam resuming to his passionate instructions, Reki feels safe enough to raise his shamefully dropped gaze from the ground to look at Langa again, and notices that his friend was already watching him.

"I don't dislike slow and steady," he explains, with an intense gaze on Reki. A heartbeat later, his eyes shift away to the dancefloor, to… Adam. "But it's not only about the dancing. He's also hot."

The way Langa says it immediately spikes something in Reki. He doesn't mind that his new half-Canadian buddy enjoys tango. Reki brought him here after all. He only minds that he couldn't foresee that after four lessons, Langa started getting so good it's almost like he's slipping out of reach.

Right into the arms of their new, hot dancing instructor.

"He's _okay,_ I guess." Reki folds his arms in front of his chest, even though a little voice in him tells him to _stop acting like a little bitch_ just because he's jealous of this stupid instructor, his skills, and most obviously, the way he seems to attract Langa like a light bulb attracts moths. Reki unfolds his arms again.

"You mean _pretty_ okay," Langa insists with a small smile, a little lewd in his tone.

Reki doesn't know what to say. _Objectively_ one could agree. But last week's session where Adam showed Reki the new choreography, teaching him in front of everyone because he failed to get the steps memorized, Adam felt too close, too quickly, too excited. And a little _creepy_ , in Reki's humble opinion.

"Maybe I just can't see it," Reki adds.

"Right," Langa says with a sigh and leans back on his hands, rocking once back and forth on his heels. "I mean you aren't gay after all."

Thinking about a reply makes Reki fiddle with words like someone fiddling with an forgotten iPhone one finds in the pockets of their favorite jeans in the washing machine. There's some sort of denial involved that he could back paddle that statement and simply _explain_ , but in reality he doesn't know what. The words just won't come out—heck, they don't even make it as far as into his brain.

"Gentlemen," Adam calls with a smug grin, "since you lovely men are both so terribly incapable of sitting still during my lesson, how about a volunteer for our next choreo?"

Reki recoils into himself at lightning speed, like the eye of a snail after it was touched, but the air around Langa seems to completely change at hearing Adam's offer; flowery and airy, with him holding up a hand to _voluntarily_ _volunteer, like a crazy person_.

"I could, Adam," Langa smiles with confidence, one that Reki is fond of, but also sort of envies. Not that he needs it to ask to dance with _Adam_.

Langa throws a look back at Reki and doesn't hide the smug grin when Adam takes his hand. He gets twirled around, like Adam is the merry-go-round and Langa a wooden horse, straight into a choreo no one but Adam knows. Langa doesn't need to, not with the way Adam leads, determined and with an unchallenged fierceness that reminds Reki of a bull in heat.

Even from afar Reki sees Langa's eyes sparkle with excitement, and all the prior disdain for Adam just ebbs away at once. Reki doesn't want to feel bad while his friend enjoys himself, even if he cannot see what's so good about that over-eager, foot-clicking _human peacock_.

The dance is over as quickly as it started, and the whole room breaks out in cheers and applause. Even Reki can admit that they look beautiful when they dance together, and that no one else quite manages to make such a pair. With wide steps, Langa at least physically returns to his spot next to Reki.

It only stings a _lot_ that Reki was the one who introduced Langa to this favorite hobby, and then got blatantly shown how mediocre he is at something he genuinely loves _(loved?)_. The additional cherry on top was Langa's full on crush on their new instructor, and really sent Reki spiralling.

Maybe after a few months of it only being the two of them, Reki's gotten spoiled. Until recently, he was used to Langa being all his, and him being all Langa's. The days where they'd watch videos of dancing competitions and choreographies until late in the evening feel long gone—even though they still do that every other day.

Langa leaves out a huff and rubs the back of his palm against his forehead, wiping away a few droplets of sweat.

"It looked good," Reki tells him because he might have some shady feelings bubbling deep in him, but he's not an ass.

He also likes to think of himself as a good friend, and not a liar. And it _is_ the truth. Langa always looks beautiful dancing.

"Thanks," Langa says, and brushes a few strands of hair back, exposing a slightly reddened ear.

Adam announces that they should get together in pairs—as usual—and practice what they've just seen. The music begins to play, and it's a slow, warm-up song.

Langa holds one hand out, and reluctantly, Reki reaches for it. When cold fingers close around his own, he feels himself burning away.

Langa leads him—sometimes he does and sometimes Reki—it's slow and gentle, and so completely different from how Langa dances with Adam.

If only Reki knew what the burning heart-ache meant—beyond the obvious jealousy—and his inferiority-complex, of course. It leaves him today even more broody than normally, and Langa wouldn't be himself if he didn't catch up on it.

"What are you thinking about?" he inquires in just the right moment, throwing Reki out of the clouds and back on the dance floor where he still hasn't moved.

Facing a pair of soft, open, bright green eyes that just caught him drifting away again, lets Reki's insides shrivel up.

He finds an immediate answer to Langa's question, but holds it back.

_That I'll never be as good as you.  
_

_That you only see him._

_And I don't even understand why—_

"Just wondering how Adam gets his hair to stand up like that," Reki says and shakes all other thoughts off. He offers a small smile, and finally moves his feet. Langa cracks a smile too, and finally, it feels like it's just them in their own little sphere again.

"Let's not talk about him," Langa suggests, softly. Reki snorts.

"You talk big for someone who wouldn't shut up about him for ages." Reki lets himself be dipped and brought back up again. For one short moment, they are so close that he feels Langa's breath against his cheek.

"I'm not that bad," Langa relents, strands of hair falling forward into his face.

He's so mesmerizing that Reki completely forgets to breathe for a moment. Then, he swallows and finally, as his brain cells leave for war, he smiles softly. "You're _a little_ bad."

He can't help feeling sympathy for Langa after all, and therefore adds, "but it's alright. It's your crush, after all."

Langa doesn't nod or reply. His hands hold onto Reki tenderly but determined when he takes a few steps back. Reki gasps at the sudden change of direction but follows, finally light-footed again.

Deep down he knows that his jealousy will ruin things for their friendship. That he needs to dig a deeper holes for his feelings and shovel them all closed, so Langa will _never_ know of them.

When they are both dancing, it seems like it could work. When Langa leads Reki savely, twirls him around, and guides their steps back and forth, and back and forth again, Reki believes that all the ugly thoughts inside of him won't have any chance to grow.

And yet it seems as if only recently they started to ooze through every single gap of the once so tightly sealed lid on his feelings.

There's another dip, and this time, Reki feels it coming. They hold the position for a moment, and usually Reki would pull a grimace–for them to pass the time or because of his inability to stay serious while looking straight into Langa's eyes for more than a few seconds.

This time, they are both simply looking, catching their breaths.

For a split second, Reki's eyes follow a sweat drop rolling over the bridge of Langa's nose, soon threatening to fall. Reki wishes he could fixate on _that_. Unappealing, bodily fluids. Instead he focuses even more on Langa's rosey cheeks, his heaving chest, and his beautiful, beautiful face.

Langa stares back, as if in deep thought.

Reki doesn't see it coming when he hears him say, "It's almost like you're jealous."

Caught off guard by the comment, Reki loses all control over his body immediately. Harshly would be an _understatement_ to describe how quickly he slips from Langa's grip and how painfully he lands on his ass.

"Reki!" Langa quickly couches down to help him up again. "I'm sorry—"

"Ah, no. It's my fault," Reki quickly reassures. It _was_ his fault, _his_ inattention. They always talk during dancing, and it shouldn't make any difference now.

And yet it does.

Somewhere in the background he hears Adam's shoes clacking on the ground, a quick and nervous beat followed by silence; always sounding like the ticking sound of a clock.

"Everything alright, boys?" Adam calls. Reki can't tell if he poses the question with sincerity or in his mocking tone. He's about to mutter a half-hearted excuse so everyone else can go on dancing, but Langa preempts him.

"We'll take a quick break, if that's alright."

Usually Langa never wants to take breaks from dancing lessons, _especially_ when they are with Adam. Usually he will sweat and pant and bruise himself through all the steps, recklessly. There's no question that now he insists on a break for Reki's sake.

Luckily Adam gives him a small nod, turns and restarts the music for everyone else. The first couples resume dancing, but Reki sits still on the ground. It still feels like a truck just hit him, which is why he decides it's better to stay put. Who cares if the next couple will have to step over him—

But Langa has other plans. "Let's go." He doesn't wait for Reki to take his hand anymore and simply reaches under his armpits to hike him up all by himself.

 _He slim but stronk_ , Reki's brain helpfully compiles, and stops doing anything else. He's not even sure he still remembers _walking_.

It doesn't matter, because within a minute, Langa has him up on his feet and out of the dancing room. And as if Reki had completely blacked out for a couple more moments, he finds himself sitting on the stairs in front of the entrance with a can of cold lemonade in his hand, the next time he blinks.

Right in front of him Langa sits and waits and looks like he expects an explanation, but Reki isn't sure what to tell him.

"Drink," Langa offers and nods at the can in Reki's hand.

After a moment of hesitation, Reki dutifully obeys. They both listen to the sizzling sound until it diminishes, the only sound aside from the crying seagulls near the beach. Only when it's fully quiet again, Reki opens the can completely and takes one overly sweet sip.

In theory, he could start his much-needed explanation about his recent behavior _anywhere_. He could begin with how pretty Langa looks and how he's always noticed. How he found himself watching Langa more and more, and obsessively wanting to rewatch every short clip of Langa and him dancing, shielded from any witnesses in the darkness of the night, with only the blue screen light of his phone illuminating the room. That he secretly wishes he was as cool and exciting as Adam, just so Langa would look at him the same way.

When those kind of thoughts creep their way into Reki's mind, he always remembers how Langa never had an issue with telling Reki he was gay. Reki on the other hand… cannot wrap his head around _anything at all_ , not even to the point he can start understanding himself.

And then there's the jealousy.

Hot, dark, blood-boiling jealousy whenever Reki hears someone praise Langa and puts him down within the same breath. Or when someone says that they aren't a good match as dancing partners behind a Reki's back, arguing that Langa's skills are defined and delicate, and far more advanced than Reki's will ever be.

It makes it harder to remember how he genuinely loves and supports this friend and that he appeared out of nowhere and catapulted himself into Reki's life like he was here to stay. Like he's the best and only buddy Reki ever needs.

There's a lot Reki can admit to himself, which wouldn't touch ground with what lies beyond those _friendship-y_ feelings yet. 

But going further would require opening up, and involve some serious brainwork, and Reki isn't ready for that yet.

That's why he cracks an apologetic smile. "I was tired today," he lies.

The way Langa looks at him for a long time and then cocks an eyebrow brings heat back into Reki's cheeks.

"That pause took far too long for that to be convincing."

But Langa doesn't push more than that.

Reki's mouth opens softly at that, but no words come out. He looks at Langa and Langa looks back, quietly, face barely visible under the darkening sky. A few of his light hair strands dance through the slow summer breeze, and Reki reaches out to brush them back, then stops himself.

He wonders what would happen if he closed the small gap between him and Langa and unleashed the whirlwind of feelings inside of him. Just once. Just to know what it feels like to reach for the stars.

But his feet stay sternly planted to his spot on the ground, and he takes a deep breath.

"Should we go back in?" he nods towards the lit, glass front door; the only light source this late.

Reki doesn't miss the measured look that Langa gives him. It seems like there's something on the tip of his tongue, but then he gets up from his crouched position and throws his empty can in a nearby trash can. He wipes his forehead with the bottom of his shirt briefly exposing his trained stomach there, and Reki sees it all, fervently hoping all the deaths he's dying on the inside to go by unnoticed.

"Yeah," Langa replies, hands in his pockets, feet still in place but eyes slightly widened with glee at the thought of returning back inside, back to dancing. Something in Reki's gut sinks. "Let's go back in."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, feel free to recommend it via twitter [here](https://twitter.com/CruelisB/status/1365262697923756033?s=20)<3


End file.
